Riven couldn’t sleep. He had tried for a while- hours- but nothing happened. He just… Wasn’t tired.

He realized he wasn’t getting to sleep anytime soon, so he figured he should do something at least semi-productive. He got out of bed and threw on a sweatshirt, grabbed his journal and a pen, and went downstairs as quietly as the wood floors allowed.

He always felt bad for getting food from the Sampsons’ fridge without asking, but they’ve told him a thousand times that he’s welcome to any food they have- if it isn’t labeled for someone specific, at least. He’s offered to pay them back eventually, but Virgil just kept denying it.

Not wanting to bother with the unnecessary guilt, he just decided to get a water bottle and granola bar on the counter. What made those different than getting something from the fridge, he didn’t know, but whatever made the random anxiety lessen.

He thought about going into the living room, but if someone woke up, he didn’t want them to see he wasn’t asleep. Again, unnecessary guilt. He’ll have to bring that up with Alva at their next session…

Riven was, however, able to see into the back patio. It was rather clear outside- no rain, no obvious wind- it was pretty dark, but nothing the patio light couldn’t fix.

So he decided to stake out on the back patio for a bit. It was rather cold, but not windy. It was the middle of January at 3 AM, but the lack of wind was somewhat surprising.

There were several chairs on the back patio, and Riven couldn’t figure out which he wanted to sit in for now. He picked the one that looked comfiest- it was one of those wide wicker chairs with the big cushions that you could spin. There were a couple more like it on the patio, so he assumed they were rather comfy compared to the others.

He assumed correctly. He was able to sit cross-legged on the chair, so his journal could be on his lap rather comfortably. What he was going to write about, he didn’t know yet, but he was sure it would come to him eventually.

And it did. He’s had this recurring dream over a week or so and wanted to make sure he got all of the details down- another thing to talk to Alva about.

After he wrote for what felt like forever, Riven sat for a moment, staring at his notebook. He closed it in his lap and then gazed up at the stars.

He had the same feeling about this dream that he felt about the dream he had in the hospital- the one about the Twin Towers collapsing. The only difference was that one could be explained.

That doesn’t explain one thing, in Riven’s eyes. His emotions were affected by the dream about the mother and son, and he felt the same emotions after his dream about the Twin Towers.

Riven put his head in his hands, using the heels of his palms to rub his eyes, trying to make sense of it all. He didn’t hear the patio door open and close behind him.

“Hey, is something wrong?”

Riven jumped and accidentally fell off the patio chair he was in. Na’im quickly ran over to him and helped him back up, laughing.

“Bro, I’m so sorry,” Na’im chuckled. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Riven said, putting a hand on his chest. “You gave me a heart attack!”

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to!” Na’im said, almost sarcastically.

Na’im pulled a chair closer to where Riven was sitting while Riven grabbed his notebook and sat back down. They sat for a moment, chuckling slightly to themselves. Then, they were sitting in silence.

“Why are you up?” Na’im asked.

“I had a weird dream, then couldn’t get back to sleep,” Riven responded, sighing. “What about you?”

“Same, pretty much,” Na’im shrugged. “I had an incredibly vivid dream about this specific memory from when Ver and I were kids.”

“What do you mean ‘vivid?’”

“Like, everything happened as I would remember it when I’m awake.”

Riven nodded and thought for a second.

“That almost sounds creepy,” Riven said, shivering like a chill went down his back.

“A little, I suppose,” Na’im agreed. “However, under Islam, Muslims believe that any dream can be a kind of spiritual perception.”

“Really? That part is kinda interesting.”

“I think so, too,” Na’im chuckled. “I don’t believe every dream has a ‘perception,’ but a good amount can.”

“Like the one I had about the Twin Towers?” Riven asked.

“Exactly, I was gonna say that too,” Na’im said. “Do you have a clue what it could mean? If anything?”

“Not really. The only real correlation I can see is the Towers falling on the same day my memory started.”

Na’im nodded. That dream had to be one with meaning…

“You said you had a weird dream tonight, too?” Na’im asked after a moment.

“Oh, yeah. It was weird- mostly because I don’t know how to explain it properly,” Riven said. “Verbally, at least.”

“‘Verbally?’”

“Well, I wrote it down in my notebook, and I’d say it sums it up pretty well,” Riven shrugged. “You can read it if you’d like, it would be easier than trying to explain it.”

Riven offered the notebook to Na’im. Na’im was hesitant to take it.

“Open it to the page,” Na’im requested. “I don’t want to look through your writing.”

“All good…” Riven agreed, flipping through the pages to about halfway through the notebook. “Here.”

“Alright, let’s see…”

♦♦♦

There was a woman. There was a young man- about 18. There was their house- it was small, almost to the point of being cramped, and yet something made it feel… oddly familiar.

He should remember where he’s seen this house before, but he just can’t pinpoint it. There were only flashes of memories- false or real, he couldn’t tell.

And this woman, the mom, her face was clear every time he saw her. He saw saw her anger. He saw her rage. He saw a brutal fire.

And the young man, the son, his face was never clear when Riven saw him. He saw his weakness. He saw his pain. He saw his fear. He saw burning.

And yet, of all places, there was the Golden Gate Bridge- across the country in San Fransisco. Every time Riven saw the bridge, he saw the water underneath. He saw the son walking across, too, and even though his face was never clear, anyone could tell he was calmer at the Bridge.

Of all places, the Golden Gate Bridge felt more homely than the house with the mother and son.

♦♦♦

Na’im looked at the notebook, confused. He seemed to read the entry over a couple of times.

“Sorry if my handwriting was messy, I was writing fast,” Riven said sheepishly.

“No, you’re good, that just is weird,” Na’im said, handing the notebook back to Riven.

“What are your thoughts about it?” Riven asked.

“I’m not 100% sure. Maybe it’s a combination of memories- similar to the one I had about Ver and I.”

“Right, from when you were kids…”

“Mhm. You did write, also, that you felt like you should remember the house, but didn’t know why.”

Riven thought about it, then shrugged slightly.

“Maybe. I’m not sure how I feel about premonitions, though…” Riven admitted.

“And that’s completely fair,” Na’im said. “Honestly, same. But I have a type of curiosity of learning about the theories behind them.”

“Like, the provable reasons? Almost?”

“Yeah,” Na’im agreed. “The ‘Proof Behind the Premonition,’ I’d say.”

“I like that title for it.”

“Me, too” Na’im chuckled.

They both looked at the stars for a long while, both thinking about their respective dreams. It was a while before the silence was broken again.

“If you are curious about that part, though, I know Ver and Dad are pretty set on believing the spiritual perceptions dreams can hold.”

“Really?” Riven asked.

“Yeah- Dad believes it more, though,” Na’im said. “I’d suggest talking to him first if you ever decide to talk.”

“What about you?” Riven asked.

“I mean, I’m not saying I won’t talk about it, I just…” Na’im started. “I just always like to take multiple perspectives into account before I make a set decision about something.”

“Like what?”

“What I think of a person, a movie, a book, a belief. I’ll have my own opinion on those, sure, but I like to… Oh, what’s the word…”

Na’im put his hands on his forehead and leaned back in his chair. Whatever he was thinking, he was having a hard time about it.

“I’m only thinking of the Spanish word, but that doesn’t do much…”

“Describe it. Maybe I can help,” Riven offered.

“Okay, um… Make my own decision but know all sides at the same time.”

“Take other’s opinions into account?” Riven suggested.

“That’s it!” Na’im said, shooting up from his chair. “I’ll have my own opinion on those, sure, but I like to take others’ opinions into account.”

“Okay, Nai,” Riven laughed.

Na’im chuckled and sat back down in his chair.

“That doesn’t seem to be a bad thought process to have, though,” Riven said.

“Yeah…” Na’im nodded. “I also describe it as ‘Having an open mind without letting their opinions control yours.’ A bit long, but it’s a working title.”

Riven chuckled.

“You know, unrelated but kind of related,” Na’im started after a moment. “Since we were talking about your dream with the Twin Towers when they were hit, there were two other planes that were hijacked.”

“Really?” Riven asked, almost shocked. “How did I not hear about them?”

“Well, the Twin Towers were the most… Prominent, I guess?” Na’im shrugged. “But one hit the Pentagon and the other crashed somewhere in Pennsylvania, so I’m thinking one of them had to have passed through Berlin.”

“What point are you trying to make?” Riven asked curiously.

“Given everything I could find was pretty vague, I heard from my grandparents that ambulances from Berlin were called to the scene for the one that crashed in PA,” Na’im said.

“Huh…” Riven said. “If that’s the case, do you think my injuries had something to do with that?”

“Quite possibly,” Na’im admitted. “Mom and Dad had gone to see the crash site since it was only about 20 minutes from my grandparents’ house. They couldn’t get too close, but what they did see was like a ‘desolate wasteland no one could survive in.’”

“Gotcha…”

Na’im and Riven were quiet for a while.

“It would be near impossible for there to be a survivor of that, much less me,” Riven said.

“What do you mean?”

“I was running for at least a few hours, and you said the drive was about 20 minutes. That doesn’t make much sense, even if I walked on the sidewalk or something.”

“Yeah, that’s true. It was a miracle that you ran that far in the first place, so-”

“Let me guess- ‘so nothing is impossible,’” Riven said, somewhat sarcastically. Na’im chuckled.

“Yeah, fair enough.”

Eventually, Na’im went back inside because of the cold. Riven stayed outside for a while longer, thinking about their conversation. Riven opened his notebook once again and only wrote one question:

“What about the plane crash in Pennsylvania?”

♦♦♦